


who could ever leave me, darling? but who could stay? (you could stay.)

by theprincessdiarist



Series: she lives in daydreams with me [1]
Category: Grey's Anatomy
Genre: Addison Centric, Cheating, F/F, Falling In Love, Fluff, Jealousy, Lesbian Sex, Montgomery more like montgaymery, POV Second Person, Post-Season/Series 02 AU, Rivals to Lovers, Sexual Confusion, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-04
Updated: 2020-12-04
Packaged: 2021-03-09 23:41:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,865
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27714220
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theprincessdiarist/pseuds/theprincessdiarist
Summary: She's intoxicating and clever and fuckingperfect, and you realize that you cannot blame your husband for picking her over you, because if you had the choice you'd have done the same, over and over again.
Relationships: Meredith Grey/Addison Montgomery
Series: she lives in daydreams with me [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2182737
Comments: 27
Kudos: 148





	who could ever leave me, darling? but who could stay? (you could stay.)

**Author's Note:**

> Hello again!! :)
> 
> There is a scene in Private Practice where Addison tells her therapist that she hates surprises. This started off as a fluffy birthday fic and slowly developed into an angsty stream of consciousness driven love story of sorts. I've been slowly adding to this and it's been in my notes app for so long that finally posting it feels like sending my child off to college. which reminds me I have three essays due soon fuck,,, but chile lemme write about two bi disasters first <3 Also, I tried my best to go over any mistakes but I'm tired af and I'm sorry if you find any. 
> 
> Regardless, I had so much fun with this one and I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it! ♡
> 
> P.S. Also, Addison's house in the story is the same as her house in Private Practice except it's in Seattle instead of Malibu. I fuckin love that place man. Also, I have no idea how Seattle real estate or housing works so just go with it lol. 
> 
> Title from The Archer by Taylor Swift.

You hate surprises. You always have. You like to plan things, or at least have some idea of what's to come. You always pick the safe choice. You don't gamble and you don't do dares because you cannot handle uncertainty. 

When you were little, Bizzy would let you stay up past your bedtime to help plan your birthday parties because you refused any surprises. You asked the Captain if your grandmother was going to die when she fell ill for the last time and didn't stop until he finally told you. You hate being left in the dark. You hate any sort of surprise at all. 

All the good things in your life exist because you worked for them. You got into Columbia. You met the man you thought was the love of your life there. You became a double board certified world class neonatal surgeon. You planned, prepared and even prayed for them. You worked your ass off for med school, you got up extra early to get a seat next to the boy with the tousled brown hair in Clinical Gross Anatomy, you spent your days and nights studying and working and not caring about anything else but to be the best. 

The boy with tousled brown hair from Clinical Gross Anatomy writes you a song to ask you to marry him and it isn't a surprise because he is your soulmate and of course you both will spend the rest of your life together. 

Marriage in itself is a surprise. You have cold feet right before the ceremony because the only marriage you've ever seen is the Captain and Bizzy's and you would die before you let the two of you become them. But then you remember Derek telling you about his mother and father and you can breathe again because at least one of you has known love. 

Being his wife is the one good surprise you ever got and look what you fucking did to it. He gives you his family; his sisters who become your sisters, his mother who gives you more love than your own did. You have so many friends and so many places to be because you're the Shepherds and everybody wants to be you. 

It's beautiful and shiny, until it isn't. Until he is at work for longer than he is home and his eyes don't shine when he looks at you. 

You feel him slipping away and that brilliant surgeon mind of yours tells you to sleep with your mutual best friend. It's cruel to Mark too because you know he loves you and he would do anything for you. 

In that moment, you become the Captain. You have spent the better part of your life despising your father for constantly hurting your mother and look what the fuck you've done now. At least your husband has more dignity than the Captain's wife ever did. 

Derek leaves, Mark stays, and you remain a self sabotaging idiot who can never be brave. You want to build a life. You want to love someone and be loved back and bring babies into the world and love them the way your parents never did you. Derek was that life until he forgot you existed and you made the most stupid mistake of your life. 

You spend a few months wondering if Mark can be that life, but you know him. He loves and he leaves. Your heart cannot survive being broken again so you break his first. You terminate the pregnancy because he cannot be a father and you cannot raise a child alone. 

Then you pack a suitcase and take the next flight to Seattle.

****

You see him across the waiting area. He's helping some pretty blonde put her coat on. It takes you by surprise. You'd thought after his holier-than-thou walkout he would just be here moping. Your insides hurt but you take a deep breath and approach him with all the confidence you can muster.

He looks angry when he sees you, but mostly annoyed. Your innate defensiveness wants to say something hurtful but you suppress the urge. You think about the song he wrote you and eleven Christmases, Thanksgivings, and Easters, and Nancy, Liz, Kate and Amy. You think about the blankness of his face when he saw you in his best friend's arms. You think about your home in New York City, the one you both bought with stars in your eyes and then you think of the rain falling on your body when he threw you out. You had screamed and cried for his forgiveness. He had let you back in. You're not sure you would have done if the same if the situation were reversed. He has always been so much kinder than you are. 

Instead, you look at the girl he stands with and decide to take it out on her. She's beautiful, with her shiny blonde hair and sparkling green eyes. She looks so innocent. It's fucking ridiculous. She's probably a decade younger than yourself and you push back the ugly taste of insecurity building up your throat. Of course he would disappear and start playing home in another city with some twelve year old. 

She looks so confused when you introduce yourself. _You must be the woman who's been sleeping with my husband._ It's low and hypocritical after what you did back home but the look on the girl's face is so amusing, it's worth it. That is, until you realize that she genuinely had no idea you existed until now. 

You suddenly feel sorry for her because she unknowingly got trapped in the disaster you have orchestrated. It wasn't meant to go this far though. It was supposed to be just Derek yelling and screaming at you, showing some emotion besides plain inattention. It was supposed to be Derek fighting to get you back because he didn't want a life without you. It was the most stupid thing you have ever done in your life. He doesn't give a fuck about you anymore, and rightly so. 

The girl looks like she will burst into tears any moment. Derek tries to reach out to _her_ but she recoils and looks at you one more time before she excuses herself and leaves like her heels are on fire. 

You catch him say her name. _Meredith._ You say it out loud and it rolls softly of your tongue. You hate it. Derek glares at you when you ask him to talk. He tries walking away, following _Meredith_ but you grab his arm and beg him to listen. You can make this right if he just gives you a chance. 

He lets you come to his trailer and say all that you came to. He calls you Satan and Adulteress and so many other names that you've called yourself enough times already for them to not even hurt anymore. You manage to get some information about the girl (Her name is Meredith Grey and she is an intern and it's not her fault because she didn't know anything.) 

It would be hypocritical of you to be angry at him but you are nonetheless. You're even now though, you think. He's had his cake and you've had yours and it's time to come back to your senses and become the Shepherds again.

****

Richard offers you a contract and you take it. Derek is pissed and he lets you know with quite a few colourful adjectives. You bear it because at least he's saying _something._ You came here to take him home and you always get what you want.

Most of the hospital staff is welcoming, some look at you with pity because they think Derek cheated, some don't care in the least. One of your interns shows a natural gift for your specialty. Izzie Stevens is wonderful with patients but cold with you and it's then that you realize she must be friends with your husband's twelve year old. You tell her she's good and that you're willing to teach her if she's done psychoanalyzing you.

****

You finally request Meredith Grey to be on your service because your curiousity gets the better of you and you just need to know what she has that you don't. (She probably doesn't cheat on her husband of eleven years.)

She looks a lot better than the night you first met. She meets your eye and answers all your questions correctly. She's defensive, you realize. You don't blame her though. You try to be kind to her and let her actually enjoy working with you. She finally lets her guard down at your third attempt at a joke and gives such a clever retort that you laugh out loud. She tries to apologize for Derek and tells you that she left him. You brush the apology aside and tell her it wasn't her fault. She looks relieved. 

You request her again, and again, and then once more until Miranda looks at you strangely. It's masochistic in a way, interacting with the girl who stole your husband's heart. You have spent nights convincing yourself that you hate her. You aren't surprised in the least that she is the most vivacious spirit you have ever met. (You used to be one too, but now you just feel faded.) 

What really does come as a surprise though, is how she makes you laugh more than you have in months. You tell her stories and she tells you some of her own. You bring her coffee after a bad day and she makes you try everything that her roommate bakes. (You both ignore the elephant in the room, pretend he doesn't even exist.) She slowly, cautiously almost, becomes your most unexpected friend at Seattle Grace. You hate her. (You cannot bring yourself to hate her at all.) 

You get a patient who assumes her sad husband-cheated-with-younger-woman story is the same way your story went too. She is blatantly rude to Meredith, who remains surprisingly composed in turn for a person who isn't even at fault. You defend her against the patient's accusations and make the woman apologize. 

Meredith looks stunned and you realize she probably thought it was Derek who had cheated, not the other way around. You wonder if she'll hate you again, if she'll go back to Derek. The thought of it makes your stomach hurt because Derek would take her back in a moment (who wouldn't?) and you do not want to lose a friend. 

She's on your service the next day too (by schedule this time, not on your request) and nothing feels different. The relief you feel in your chest scares you. You wonder if she spoke to Derek last night because he wasn't home until after you fell asleep. Then again, he isn't home most nights and you fall asleep alone. She asks if you're okay and you just smile back.

****

You're called in for an emergency surgery for an intern with a burst fallopian tube. You recognize her; Cristina Yang, Meredith's best friend.

The surgery is successful. You're taking off your scrub cap as you exit the OR when Meredith suddenly appears in front of you. You startle for a moment before she steps forward and throws her arms around you and whispers a reverent _thank you_ like you did something greater than just your job. She holds you firmly and you can feel the warmth of her body against yours. 

The loss you feel when she steps away is a surprise. You cannot remember the last time someone hugged you as more than a greeting, and so you tell yourself it was just your body's natural response due to a general deprivation of human contact. You ignore the lingering warmth as you watch her walking down the hallway. 

You can still feel the ghost of her body around you when you step home into an empty trailer.

****

You see your husband at work more than at home. You try to talk, flirt, anything that would make him want you. He tries, you can tell he does. But Meredith Grey isn't someone you just forget about, apparently, and you see him glancing over whenever she passes by. You see her glance back at him but sometimes her eyes meet yours, and she quickly looks away and it fucking _enrages_ you because you are standing right there but you are invisible. You are begging for your husband's affection at this point and that _girl_ (that funny, wonderful, kind girl) is the one he is all over.

The worst part is how hard it is to hate someone like her, so you just stand there and inwardly seethe and burn and cry until there's nothing left. You still cannot hate her. 

She hasn't been on your service for a while now. You ignore the urge to request her just because you're fucking lonely. Your life isn't going half the way you spent years planning it and it _hurts._ You're trying to win back a man who could give two shits about you and the woman he loves is too fucking _good_ for you to blame anyone but yourself. 

Your marriage is a joke. You can fight it all you want but you are your father's daughter and you are the same fucking wreck that he is. You hate, _hate_ surprises, and your inability to fix your shitshow of a marriage does come as one. 

Your husband comes home one night and tells you that he can't do this anymore. You're hardly surprised. You don't have the energy to plead. You ask him if it's because of _her_. He doesn't meet your eye and lets you know that his lawyer will send you the divorce papers. You want to ask how long he has been planning on leaving but you just give a nod, lie back down and close your eyes. Blonde hair and green eyes haunt your dreams. 

You're groggy, irritable and almost officially single in the morning. You have back-to-back surgeries that take up most of your day and you're thankful for the distraction. 

You run into Meredith in Radiology. You're cold and distant and you ignore the hurt look on her face when you do not respond to her attempts at your usual banter. _She stole your damn husband,_ the ugly part of your brain supplies. No, she fucking didn't. You threw him away yourself and you're signing papers to officiate it and it's over. You're fucking furious anyway. You're sure she's talking to him again and you know he's waiting for the moment you sign your name on those papers to fly to her doorstep (if he hasn't already, that is.) 

Jesus Christ, you should've just stayed in New York and stuffed yourself with cheeseburgers until you were a balloon and all of your sadness was gone.

****

You feel like you're walking in a daze. You pack up all your things at the trailer and for a moment you just want to run back to New York. Instead, you take a cab to the Archfield, throw your suitcases on the carpet and lie on the softest bed you've slept on in months. You order room service and you cry until your head throbs.

You go to work the next day. You should tell your next husband to dump you on a Friday so you can at least have an entire weekend to feel like shit in peace. You're snappish and irritable and you're pissing yourself off at your own behaviour. You try to keep it down but the interns you are assigned are so fucking stupid that you're better off doing everything yourself. You see Derek around and it surprisingly doesn't hurt. You've accepted that he is lost to you. The only hurt that remains is your own failure at having a stable, happy life. 

It's another week or so of booze-filled nights and caffeine-charged days before Meredith is assigned to you. It was inevitable, really. You don't know how to deal with your emotions regarding her because she was your friend but now she's probably sleeping with your ex-husband and she probably- no, definitely doesn't want to be your friend anymore. You decide to focus on the case alone. It feels strange not talking about random things and funny instances and you push away any urge to do so. 

She tries talking to you in surgery and again when you're scrubbing out. You want to talk to her. Despite everything that's happening, you want to sit with her and tell her about your fucking day. It's _pathetic_. She's perfect in a way you can never be; her light, her energy, her... everything. You cannot match her. It's not even a competition anymore because it's clear who has won. You ignore her crestfallen, beautiful face as you silently walk away.

****

You're sitting alone in the attendings' lounge when there's a knock on the door and Meredith peeks in. She scans the room and steps inside. She's carrying files you assume are your patient's charts. Why is she still here? You motion to her to bring them over to where you're sitting on the couch. She does, and then sits down next to you. You look up at her in surprise.

 _Why aren't you speaking to me?_ she asks. It's confident and her chin is raised like she deserves a fucking answer. 

You feel your earlier anger bubble up again. _I am speaking to you as I speak to every other intern, Doctor Grey,_ you hiss. 

_So I'm just another intern now? Wow._

You cannot believe the nerve of this girl! You let her know exactly that; how your husband is leaving and how he wants her and she wants him and how you're not her fucking friend because- 

She kisses you. It's hard, unforgiving as she slips her fingers into your hair and tugs. You do not respond for a moment, the mere shock of it doesn't allow your body to register what's happening. But her lips are insistent against yours, her body is soft, she's already moaning into your mouth and you're _alive_. She's bent at awkward angle so you tug at her thigh and she shifts until she's on your lap. 

She circles her hips against yours, her mouth making it's way down your jaw, your neck, your collarbones. She pulls back for a moment and pulls her scrub top off. You stop breathing because _fuck_. Her breasts are firm under your palms and her eyes become glassy with pleasure when you kiss her. Her mouth is so soft and she kisses you back with equal earnest, letting you slip your tongue inside. 

It's electric, her touch, her scent, her body around yours. You pull back for a moment and close your eyes. This is fucking insanity, what you both are doing. You're miserable and she's... sleeping with _him_. You want to tell her _no, go, this isn't happening_ because it's wrong and you're technically still married (has that stopped you before though?) and... 

But then you meet her eyes again and they're so green and hopeful and glazed with lust, and her lips are slightly swollen, parted as she breathes in and out, and so you kiss her again because fuck it, she deserves that glorious mouth of hers to be kissed senseless and you deserve to have some fun of your own (even if it is with the woman who unintentionally broke your marriage. What the fuck are you even doing?) 

Your hands tug at the waistband of her scrubs and you look up for her nod of consent before your hand is slipping in and _holy fuck_ is she wet. She moans out your name when you finally brush your fingers against her and throws her head back when you slip a finger inside her, then two, three. 

Her earlier confidence wanes until she's soft and yielding and lets you do whatever you want as long as you keep touching and kissing her. She's breathing so fast you're half afraid she might hyperventilate, but she doesn't. She just tugs at your hair and repeats your name like a mantra, her head thrown back, the column of her neck exposed for you to kiss. The thought that she trusts you enough to let you fuck her however you please grips your heart and squeezes it. It's been so long since someone trusted you with anything. 

She comes with a cry of your name and her body slumps against yours. It is the hottest thing you have ever seen and if your brain shuts down, it's her fault. Her right hand grazes your cheek, her left runs through your hair and her lips brush softly against yours. 

The glazed look in her eyes is suddenly washed out by a panicked one. She practically jumps off your lap, knotting her scrubs back up and rushes toward the door. She's come to her senses, you realize. You fight the tiny lump forming in your throat, the ugly, insecure part of your brain gearing into action. This was a mistake anyways, you're just lonely and you definitely don't want to- 

You hear a _click_ and you look up to see Meredith locking the lounge door. Your heart stops because fucking hell, anyone could've walked in on you. _He_ could've walked in on you. (Then again, he isn't your problem anymore.) 

She has a sheepish grin on her face as she walks back to you. You're sprawled across the couch, breathless, and the pang of relief you feel at her not walking away scares the fuck out of you. She's on her knees in front of you before you can dwell on your stupid loneliness and you stop thinking of anything but _her_. 

She runs her palms over the insides of your thighs, her eyes glazed and mouth slightly parted. You push her hair out of her face and she looks up with a little grin that gives you fucking _butterflies_. She's quick with shedding your clothes, pulling you close until you can feel her breath against you, and _God_ you haven't been this turned on in... forever. Then she presses her tongue against you and you're done for. Your heart will give out and you'll die right here on this couch with her between your legs. (Not bad, if you're honest.) She fucks you until you're panting her name and tugging at her hair like your life depends on it. 

She rests her head on your stomach as you both catch your breath. Your hands are still buried in her hair and you stroke through gently. She _purrs_ (You refuse to acknowledge the stir of heat inside you at the sound.) 

You don't know how long it is that you both just sit there. Your wits slowly return as you cool down and _what the fuck have you done?_ Oh God, you _are_ a whore. You want to push her away but she's so warm against you and you haven't been warm in so goddamn long. 

You let her stay until she chooses to get up herself. She slips to the bathroom and you take the time to fix yourself up. You take a look in the mirror on the far end of the room and holy fuck, are you a wreck. It feels unreal, what just happened. You had sex with Meredith Grey in the attendings' lounge. Maybe it is some weird fucking dream and you'll wake up in a trailer and you'll still have a husband or maybe you'll wake up in New York and- 

_Uh, bathroom's free. If you wanna use it._

Oh. You feel yourself blush (What the fuck?) and she grins, the cheeky little shit. She heads to the door and you head to the bathroom and the awkward silence is killing you but you straighten (Ha!) your back and quickly enter before she can say anything. 

The magnitude of what you've done hits you as you're cleaning up. _You had sex with Meredith Grey in the fucking attendings' lounge with the door unlocked._ You've officially lost it. You've gone mad with the grief of rejection. Oh God, you just can't keep your legs closed, can you? Your palms grip the counter as you stare at yourself in the mirror. 

But _she_ approached you. You didn't even know you wanted this until she kissed you. _She kissed you._ You didn't know she even liked women! Scratch that, she was- _is_ in love with Derek. God, you cannot do this to him twice. You cannot be a part of something that'll hurt him so deeply again. It's... this cannot happen again. You don't know what was going on in Meredith's head but this just won't happen again. It won't. 

You head out of the bathroom repeating it to yourself when you hear your pager go off. You grab it and rush to the ER. 

Meredith is already there when you get to the room. Fuck. Breathe in. Her eyes meet yours and you smirk. She blushes prettily and almost distracts you from the patient you're attending to. It's reckless but you look at her again and she reddens further (it's ridiculously cute) but gives the same cheeky grin again. Oh, shit. Focus on the job. Fuck.

****

It turns into a game. She glances at you across a hallway and the next thing you know you're pressed against an on-call door with her thigh between your legs and her mouth on your neck. You see her leaving after her shift and once your eyes meet, you know she knows. She'll follow you to an empty supply closet and you'll fuck her until she's crying out your name.

It's so, so wrong. You tell her so the second time, but she puts her tongue inside you and you're a fucking hypocrite, so it doesn't stop. Meredith is a hypocrite too. She is the one in a relationship, not you. You're alone in all regards but legal. You don't know what her situation is with him and you don't like to think about it. Her personal shit is her own to deal with.

****

You sign the papers on a Friday. He wants nothing from the years you spent together, not even the Hamptons house. You both sit opposite each other and it hurts how eager he is to get rid of you but you also understand.

You hate yourself too for what you've done and for what you keep doing. 

You imagine his reaction if he found out what you had done with his precious darling Meredith. What she had _begged_ you to do to her. A little evil part of your brain wants to tell him just to see his face contort with anger for her in a way he never did for you. You want to tell him how you fucked her right there on the resident lounge sofa where you both have had coffee, the sounds she made for you, the way her body convulsed with pleasure. 

But he knows how she feels. He spent months learning her before you even knew she existed. The thought of it makes you sick, but from an altogether different perspective now. It's ridiculous how drastically things have changed. You planned and planned until everything was perfect but then you cheated on your husband and he left you for another woman and now you're sleeping with said woman while she's probably seeing your (ex) husband. You hate surprises and your entire life is one now.

****

You invite her to the hotel. You feel seventeen again, sneaking in a boyfriend because the Captain and Bizzy wouldn't approve of him. You wonder what they would think of this whole shitshow. _The Captain would understand,_ you chuckle mirthlessly.

It's reckless and idiotic and you have never been either of those things. You're a smart fucking woman who can make good decisions, but when Meredith places soft kisses down your neck and whimpers in your ear for _more_ , it all seems worth it. You wonder if you're so utterly deprived of affection that you're seeking it in your ex-husband's girlfriend, or if this is some fucked up way of punishing him for not coming back to you after you cheated on him. It wrecks your brain, but Meredith is soft and likes to do _everything_ and so anything that isn't her can wait. 

She never stays the night, and you never ask her to. She just grabs her bag and gives you a soft smile before slipping out the door and you wonder if she's going to him. It's torturous, this particular train of thought. It shouldn't matter who she goes home to because this is... God, you don't even know how to describe this little rendezvous you and she have started. 

You decide to not think about it. She doesn't seem to care either, which surprises you but you don't question it. You never bring him up. It doesn't matter. ( _It really doesn't,_ you keep telling yourself.)

****

Your intern mixes up the medicine you requested so you have to go get it yourself. You're mumbling obsceneties to yourself as you step into the storage room, only to find Meredith with her arms wrapped around her, tucked into herself against the wall. She looks up with swollen, red-rimmed eyes and smudged mascara. You see the momentary panic of being caught in a vulnerable state and then it fades, and she lets her head fall back down. You freeze and you contemplate walking back out and pretending this never happened because Meredith clearly wants to be left alone. But that stupid, fiercely protective part of you refuses to let this girl sit here and cry on her own.

You try to push the feeling down because this is not what you two are. You don't go into supply closets and hold the other person when they cry. You go into supply closets and hotel rooms to screw each other's brains out and so what if you like it when she plays with your hair when you're cooling down and so what if you like to hold her for a couple more minutes than necessary because she is warm and soft and everything you like in a woman. 

You tentatively whisper her name and the only answer is muffled sniffles. You lock the door behind yourself and slip down next to her. You feel her body tense for a moment before going limp, her head falling onto your shoulder and her left hand reaching out to grab yours, intertwining your fingers. 

You brush your thumb against her hand and ask her if she wants to talk. She takes a deep breath, composes herself, but only a moment passes before her eyes fill with tears again and she sobs out her fears about her mother. You can only hold her and rub her back and pet her hair as she cries and cries and cries. You decide to call Bizzy when you get home. 

She quietens eventually, out of exhaustion more than anything, so you loosen your grip to move away but she tightens her own around you until she's almost in your lap. You hold her and run your fingers through her hair as she buries her face in your neck. 

Suddenly, her pager goes off and she groans as she reluctantly gets up. She places a soft kiss on your mouth and whispers a thank you before slipping out of the room. You keep sitting on the floor, wondering what the fuck just happened. 

You pass her on your way to OR 2 and she pulls you aside to ask if you'd like to come over to her place. You pause for a moment because it doesn't feel like an invitation for sex. You say yes because it doesn't matter. 

You ring her doorbell before realizing that she has roommates but thankfully it's her that opens the door. She grabs your hand and leads you upstairs. You've barely kicked off your heels before she's pulling you towards the bed. You end up flat on your back and she settles in next to you, wrapping her arms around your waist. She clings to you almost, with her leg thrown across yours and her head resting under your chin. _Oh, okay._ God, she's so warm. You gently stroke her hair and listen to her breath slowing as she falls asleep. 

You wake up a couple hours later and you try getting up but her arm tightens across your waist and she mumbles incoherently. You gently remove her arm and slip out, pressing a kiss against her temple as you get up. You're looking for your left heel when Meredith startles awake and asks you where you're going. You both know the answer, you both know you cannot stay. Damn her for being so warm and looking at you with those puppy eyes and God _damn_ her for making you the other woman, because all you want to do is take off your crumpled silk blouse and go back to sleep with her. You walk up to her and her eyes brighten for a moment, but you just softly kiss her and leave. 

The next morning she's bright and bubbly again so you also pretend that yesterday never happened. You're good at pretending. Growing up with the Captain and Bizzy did teach you a thing or two. Regardless, you keep thinking of her warm weight against you last night and how badly you want to feel her again. Oh, you are so fucked.

****

Your realtor finally calls back and shows you a beautiful house by the water. You need to get out of the hotel and you seem to be making decisions on a whim left and right anyways. You buy the house. It turns out to be a good decision because the view is truly stunning, especially in the morning. (You realize that it's far too big a place for one person but you push the thought away.)

It feels like a new beginning, even though you are the same fucked up person that you were yesterday. It's better than going back to New York, at least.

****

You bring her home and she eats you out on your couch, and then against the glass windows of your living room. Then she tells you a ridiculous story involving Karev and Stevens over dinner.

It feels _domestic_. It's been so long since you felt like coming home could be a good thing. Coming home to her would be... wonderful. Oh, you need to stop. Right now. This isn't some great _romance_. You are just friends who occasionally (constantly) have sex. That's it. 

But then sometimes you see her leaving with him at the end of the day and you have to push down the lump forming in your throat. You're not supposed to feel this. You're supposed to want to be her, not _him_. You look away from the picture perfect image they make together. _It doesn't matter._ (Oh, God, it so fucking does.) 

She's intoxicating and clever and fucking _perfect_ , and you realize that you cannot blame your husband for picking her over you because if you had the choice you'd have done the same, over and over again.

****

You're going over a case file at the main desk when you see them leaving together. He has his arm wrapped around her waist and God, you want to fucking pry it off of her. You should be the one holding her and taking her home. She's... _not yours_ , your brain supplies. You want to walk up to them and claw his face off. You want to scream and cry and break everything you see.

Instead, you storm off to the attendings' lounge to collect your bag and change out of your scrubs. Your eyes burn as you button up your shirt until you can't fucking see but you angrily swipe them away because this is not something to cry over. You have the perfect plan; you will drink your fucking face off and pretend that the burning hole of loneliness in you doesn't exist. 

You drive up to Joe's and cross your fingers that you don't run into anyone you would have to make polite conversation with. But of course you can't catch a break and she's there already, slumped over the counter. It really just took her thirty minutes to lose all sense of reality. 

You cautiously head over and sit down on the empty seat next to her. _Fuck._ She's been with him. You can fucking tell. She's drunk out of her mind and you cannot leave her alone here, no matter how much you want to kill her. You tell her that you're taking her home and she giggles in a way that would make your heart flutter if you weren't so furious. She stumbles getting off the barstool so you hold her steady and lead her out of the bar. She leans heavily against you as you unlock you car and tries to nuzzle your neck when you buckle her in but you pull away. You ignore her whine. 

You contemplate between taking her to her own place or to yours. You decide on yours because she blabbers when she's drunk and who knows what she'll say to her roommates. She tries to palm your thigh or grab your hand and huffs in frustration when you brush her attempts aside. 

She tries rubbing against you when you're unlocking the front door but backs off when you glare at her. You help her with her coat, take off your own and head to the kitchen. She follows you inside and wobbles over to the living room. 

She's lying on your couch with her legs curled up against her torso when she asks you why you won't touch her. She looks defenseless and tiny and you almost want to rush to her and hold her but the rest of the night comes flashing back. 

_You're drunk and you smell like him. I'm not fucking coming near you,_ you tell her right from where you stand at the counter. It's the first time you've ever mentioned him, you realize. Your voice is hard and you expect her to argue back and for this to turn into a full blown argument that you are just too exhausted for. 

Instead, her eyes fill up with tears and she nods jerkily. She whispers something you don't catch and tries to get up. You can tell she's still dizzy so you bring her a glass of water and sit on the far end of the couch, as far away from her vicinity as you can. 

You stare out the huge windows of this huge fucking house that you live all alone in as you hear her gulp down her water. She whispers your name and you turn to look at her. She looks slightly more awake now. 

_I'm going to leave him._

_What?_

_I'm going to leave him. I- I can't. I want you. Just you._

Oh. _Oh._ Your heart hurts. You want to kiss her senseless and you want to fucking throw her out. You watch her tentatively slide towards you. She still reeks of sex and you try to get up but she grabs your hands and slips down onto her knees in front of you. 

You picture the last time she was on her knees for you at this couch. You would give anything to go back to when this whole situation wasn't a fucking shitshow. When you'd find an empty room at work and you'd just _fuck._ Back when it didn't matter who she went home to or who was fucking her when you weren't. Back when he chose her but you won anyways because you were the one who she came to (and came _for_ , your brain crudely adds.) 

Instead, you're sitting on your couch and Meredith is teary with the effort to tell you that it didn't mean anything to her. That he fucked her but she didn't feel anything for him. That you are the only one she needs. 

You hold her hands and stare at your lap while she talks. You pull her back up onto the couch and she shuffles until she's laying down with her head in your lap. You brush stray locks of hairs off of her face as she looks up at you with something almost akin to _awe_. You swallow the lump forming in your throat. 

_I'll tell him tomorrow. I promise. I'm sorry._

You put a finger over her lips and she quietens. You tell her to close her eyes, you tell her it's okay even though it's not and you both will have to discuss this in the morning, but for now she needs to sleep and so do you. 

She says she wants to leave him but you're not certain she knows what she wants. She has this stupid fucking idea that she needs to beg for affection or else she won't get it. Oh, how you'd like to slap some sense into her. You feel more for this girl than you ever have for anyone and _can she not see that?_

You fall asleep watching the water outside your window.

****

The sunlight in your eyes wakes you up. You're lying on the couch with an arm thrown across you and it takes a moment to register that it's Meredith. Except her hair is damp and she smells like _you_ and it's enough to make you tuck yourself in closer to her. You close your eyes.

You wake up again to the _clink_ of a plate againt the coffee table and you open your eyes to see Meredith retreating towards the kitchen. She returns with two cups of what you desperately hope is coffee and places them next to the plate of toast and fruit and eggs. She looks at you for a moment and you pat the empty space next to you. She sighs, as if in relief, and quickly sits down like she's afraid you might change your mind. 

You sip coffee and wonder how much of last night she remembers. You wonder how to start a conversation and when the two of you became this complicated, when it went from wham, bam, thank you ma'am to you losing your fucking mind seeing her with another person. 

You hear her whisper your name so you turn to look at her. Her hair is dried now and tucked behind her ears. Her eyes are sad. _I meant what I said last night. All of it._ Oh, good. Let's get right on with it then. You give a small nod and open your mouth to say something, anything, but nothing comes out. _I'll tell him today._ You nod again and reach over to grab the plate.

****

His contract was almost over anyway when she tells him that there's someone else. You're hovering nearby when she does it. You have no reason to be here, least of all so close that you can hear everything she says. You hear him fight her decision to break up until he realizes that she won't budge. He calls her a whore and you want to smash his fucking face in, but he leaves for God knows where before you can.

You see him around the hospital for a few more. You wonder if he knows that it's you who has ruined another relationship for him. You should feel bad, and once upon a time you would have. Instead, you catch Meredith's eye across a hallway or feel her brush against you in an OR and nothing besides her matters to you. 

You can feel her follow you around the hospital whenever she's free. She requests Miranda for extra hours in OB/Gyn even though you both know she has no real interest in it besides you being there. It feels strange to know that she chose you. You seem to have forgotten what it feels to get what you want, to not sit at home and accept that you're nobody's first choice.

****

She asks you out to dinner because she wants to do this properly. She seems nervous, like there is a universe where you have the power to reject her.

You go on a fucking _date_ with Meredith Grey. Your life doesn't even surprise you anymore. You gaze at her across the table and your stomach tingles when she laughs. She drives you home and kisses you under your porchlight. You watch her drive off and it hits you that love can be easy; you don't have to struggle for affection and you don't have to be afraid. 

You used to talk and kiss before but now it feels different, better. You were half-afraid she'd leave when it would be just you. When the thrill of a secret, of hands under tables and muffled cries behind locked doors, was gone. But she stays. 

She sleeps over at your place most nights. A purple toothbrush joins your white one and a _Dartmouth_ sweatshirt sits next to your _Yale_ one. Sometimes you'll manage to stay the night at her place and leave before George or Izzie wake up. You haven't told her friends yet, or your own, because it's too soon and it's too fragile and you both want it to be just the two of you for a while. 

You go home together on the days your schedules miraculously match. If anyone has noticed, they haven't said anything and you're thankful for it. 

You love being home with her. The house still is too big but you stop yourself from going down that train of thought (for now.) You order dinner because neither of you feel like cooking and she recaps you on a ridiculous E.R. fight. 

You make love to her until you're both breathless and sated. She clings to you as she sleeps and you breathe in the lavender of her hair. She's perfect, here in your arms. (It's so cliché and you would puke in disgust were it someone else saying all this.) You don't intend on letting go.

****

You wake up on your birthday another year older and a little less excited than the previous year. You like to pretend you don't care about your birthday but you wear red lipstick and spend a little more time curling your hair anyway.

You're met with a beautiful bouquet that your brother sent to the hospital instead of your house, and a furious Meredith Grey holding the card attached. She is pissed that the one night she didn't stay over you decided to be born and she's offended that you didn't tell her so you reiterate that it isn't a big thing, that birthdays are just like all other days. 

She is aghast at your lack of enthusiasm and still upset about not knowing that you're another year older but she kisses you anyways. She calls it your birthday treat when she drops to her knees and buries her face between your thighs and doesn't stop until you're panting her name and seeing stars. 

Your schedule is packed for the day and you were hoping she would be assigned to you but she ends up on Burke's service. You have half a mind to request Miranda to give her to you but you don't want to seem suspicious in any way, for both her sake and your own. 

So you get stuck with some idiot intern and you're annoyed and snappish until Meredith pulls you into an empty storage room. She gives you a box of chocolate cupcakes that Izzie Stevens conveniently made in bulk this morning and kisses you breathless against the wall. She invites herself to your place tonight and wiggles her eyebrows in a way that makes you laugh and kiss her again. 

You get pulled into an emergency surgery just as you're leaving and you can't really ask anyone to call her on your behalf to let her know you'll be late. You just hope she realizes on her own and doesn't think you forgot or something. 

You call her as soon as you exit the OR and apologize for being late but she brushes it off. She asks you to hurry over before the clock strikes midnight. _Before I turn back into Satan's mistress who breezes in and ruins everything?_ you ask, and then realize how awful that sounded. You don't talk about _before_ and you probably just ruined the best thing in your life. 

Her giggles send a rush of relief through you. _Addie,_ she breathes out, _I love every version of you. Now hurry._ You hear the familiar _click_ of the call ending and she's gone. 

Your heart threatens to beat out of your chest as you rush to the attendings' lounge to change back into your dress and touch up your makeup. 

_I love every version of you._

She loves you. 

Your arm hurts from the angle zipping up your dress requires but you barely feel anything because all your body can focus on is Meredith's voice saying the words you've only ever said to her in your mind. It's her voice when Richard stops you in the lobby to wish you a happy birthday and you give a dazed reply. It's her voice when you walk to your car and turn the ignition on and put on your seatbelt. Her voice is in the Seattle skyline and in the traffic and in whichever song the radio is playing. 

It's almost eleven when you reach home. The front door is unlocked and you call out her name as you take off your shoes and coat. She replies and you follow her voice into the kitchen. 

You enter and see her leaning against the kitchen table set for two. There's candles and something smells so delicious and there's _her_ in a pretty white blouse and jeans that she wasn't wearing this morning and with the mischievous smile that makes your stomach flip. 

You feel a lump forming in your throat as you walk up to her and run your hands up her arms, her shoulders, tuck her hair back. She wraps her arms around your waist and pulls you closer. You can feel tears pooling in your eyes but you refuse to ruin the moment and instead you gently stroke her face. She glances back for a moment and it's then that you see a white frosted cake with a wonky _Addie_ with a big heart around it in maroon icing. 

You cannot hold the tears back anymore and they begin spilling at an embarrassingly fast pace. Meredith gasps and tries to brush them away with her thumbs. She begins rambling about getting Izzie to bake a cake because the one she tried making herself looked like foam and tasted like nothing and that it looks a little ugly because she iced it herself because her roommates are far too inquisitive for her taste and she wasn't sure if you'd be comfortable if they- 

You kiss her. She melts against you and you can taste the buttercream on her lips. It's delicious. _She's_ delicious. You can taste the salt of your tears in the kisses but it doesn't seem to bother her in the least as she coaxes your mouth open to slip her tongue inside and brushes hers against yours. 

Your hands reach the button of her jeans but she pulls back with a groan. Her chest heaves as she reminds you that dinner is in the oven but you roll your eyes and resume kissing her because who gives a fuck about that when you can have her instead. She whines and pulls back again, this time stepping away with a _Okay, but you can't have a birthday without cutting your cake! And it's almost twelve!_

You glance up at the clock and it's true. You don't care about cakes but you'll do it for her, so you go grab a knife while she lights up the (many, many) candles and brings the cake over. 

You're sitting on a stool and blowing the candles and cutting a thin slice as she sings the most adorable, terribly off-key rendition of _happy birthday_ , and you're the happiest you have been in years. You almost feel like you'll burst with the emotions coursing through your body. You kiss her, and she hops off the counter. She tangles her fingers in your hair, kissing you back as she begins guiding you away from the kitchen and toward the bedroom. 

She pauses against the door but you pull her towards the bed and sit down, and she climbs on top so she's in your lap. Her hands tug at your hair (She loves your hair, you've noticed.) and she rubs herself against you, trying to draw out pleasure. You flip her over so she's under you now and just looking at her like this, lying back and pleading for you to touch her, sends shocks of heat through your body. 

You try to patiently open the buttons on her blouse but she's warm and smells like lavender and you want to touch her skin so bad that you end up sending buttons flying everywhere in your haste. Fuck it, you'll buy her a new one. 

Baby pink lace covers her breasts and it's far too fancy for work which means she specifically wore this for you and honestly, your brain could shut down with that piece of information alone. She breaks into a grin because she's wicked and knows exactly the effect she has on you. She moans and squirms and you place your left hand over her belly to hold her still, while your right slips inside in her jeans. 

She's so wet. You pull your hand out and unbutton her jeans, pulling them down her legs. She looks up at you and smirks, her green eyes sparkling with mirth. Oh, you love her like this. You _love_ her. (And she loves you. God, she fucking loves you.) 

She is soft skin and blonde hair and tiny whimpers under you. Her breasts are firm under your palms and her eyes become glassy with pleasure when you kiss her. Her mouth is so soft and she kisses you back with equal earnest, letting you slip your tongue inside. You take your time, teasing and kissing and tasting her until she's squirming for release. She cries out your name as she comes and you can get off from the sight of her alone. 

She takes a moment to catch her breath before flipping you over. She starts off slow, but you're too fucking desperate to feel her inside you so you beg until she complies. Her hands are rough and her kisses are soft and you are the luckiest woman alive because she loves you. Her name is a mantra on your lips as she pushes you over the edge.

****

You don't remember falling asleep. You wake up with a startle and maybe it's the lingering effect of a dream but your thoughts drift to New York, and then to Connecticut, and to Bizzy and the Captain.

You wonder what they'd think of Meredith. Your teenage self viewed them as harsh critics. But it's been decades and you realize now that they wouldn't have cared so much if your boyfriend had a tattoo too many or if he didn't know his way around a five course dinner cutlery set. You just couldn't handle the rejection. 

You spent your entire life playing it safe because you couldn't tolerate the idea of not being perfect. You spent so long trying to please the Captain and Bizzy and you did manage to. Double board certified world class surgeon is not an easy feat. 

You still felt so cold for years. 

But here, as you lay in soft blue sheets that now smell like Meredith's shampoo, you are warm. You are safe. You can be imperfect and spontaneous and vulnerable and Meredith wouldn't care because she loves every version of you. 

You look at her snuggled in the jungle of pillows she likes to sleep with. She looks so small, so soft in the morning light. Your heart aches at the simplicity of it; the feeling of her skin under your palm from where her shirt has risen up, the ends of her hair that tickle your face, the gentle rise and fall of her chest as she sleeps. 

The realization hits you like a punch to the gut; You want a lifetime of this, of her. You want to wake up every day with her body pressed against yours, you want to soothe her morning grumbles with coffee and kisses. You want shared spaces and little kids running around, you want to come home after a long day and just see her and hold her. 

You want to fuck her in supply closets and on-call rooms but you also want to kiss her whenever you see her at the hospital without anyone giving a shit. You want to take her out for dinner and then take her home with the knowledge that she is yours and you are hers and what you have is good and pure and true. Because she is all of that and more. She is everything good, everything holy, and you want to spend the rest of your life basking in her light. 

She likes to call herself dark and twisty and she can be cynical and insecure. But she's also young and full of dreams and possibilities. You know she will be great someday, and you want to be here to see that. 

Suddenly, your past isn't as haunting and you hate yourself a little less because every decision and every mistake you have made has led you to her. 

You close your eyes. In a moment you'll get up and start breakfast. She'll join you and tell you some wild European backpacking tale and you'll snort your coffee. Then you'll both get dressed and drive to the hospital and there will be new cases to handle. 

Right now, you just lie quietly as you breathe in the scent of her hair. For the first time in your life you are not afraid of what-ifs. You have all the time in the world to figure it all out, to learn how to stay happy and to make _her_ happy. 

You have hated surprises your entire life and Meredith Grey was a bucket of ice water thrown over your head. She made you seethe and grumble at first, but she finally, _finally_ startled you out of the endless sleep you've been in. And God, have you slept. 

She mumbles a good morning and wraps her arms around your waist, throws a leg over yours, nuzzles your neck. A smile forms on your lips as you run your hands over her back and pull her tighter against yourself. 

_I love you._

_I love you._

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading :) Please let me know your thoughts! Your comments inspire me more than you all know ♡ Much love, and see you all next time :)


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